


Tell Me I’m Lovely

by trashcangimmick



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy is a Bitch But His Heart is Full of Love Goddamnit, Canon Divergence, Chubby Steve Harrington, Daddy Kink, Domestic Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Musician Steve Harrington, Post-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Size Difference, Switching, body image issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 05:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20204473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick
Summary: After he and Billy move to California, Steve starts to put on some weight. Apart from the usual cattiness, Billy doesn’t seem to mind.





	Tell Me I’m Lovely

**Author's Note:**

> Sara was talking about [Steve growing into a dad bod to match his daddy dick](https://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/186530727921/you-mentioned-steve-getting-a-gut-in-a-recent). My hand slipped.

It starts as just a few pounds. Working at a freaking ice cream shop and not playing basketball on a regular basis doesn’t lend itself to physical fitness. The only workouts Steve really gets are when he’s riding Billy’s dick in the back of the Camaro after the pool closes. 

Steve’s still pretty skinny. Like, his stomach is just a little softer. Billy doesn’t seem to care. He says _ damn, you’re fuckin’ sexy, Harrington _, after he’s already come. Not just when he’s trying to get Steve to put out. So that has to count for something. 

Steve knows he should exercise. He knows he should eat better. He’d just rather get stoned with Robin, or play guitar, or drive around aimlessly and listen to music with Billy. The few pounds around his stomach become a few more pounds on his love handles. He’s still not that stressed about it. 

***

Once Billy graduates they move to California to be _ roommates _ , who definitely _ aren’t dating, _but share a bed and fuck every night. Steve gets a job at a taco place. Free tacos are an irresistible proposition to a broke nineteen-year-old. 

“Man, your butt is getting bigger.” Billy says one night, while they’re sprawled across the couch. Steve on his back, Billy between his legs, fucking him slow and lazy. He smacks Steve’s ass for emphasis. 

“Oh my god. What the hell, Billy?”

“I like it. More cushion for the pushin’.” He grins. 

Steve wants to slap him. Instead he pulls Billy down into a kiss. If he needs to shut Billy up, it’s usually better to make out with him than start a fight. 

Billy wraps a hand around Steve’s cock and jerks him off. He snaps his hips harder. Faster. Steve comes, moaning into Billy’s mouth. Billy isn’t far behind him. 

***

Turning twenty-one doesn’t help. Sure, Steve drank before. Now that he can buy beer without any hassle, he drinks a lot. His band is gigging quite a bit too. Which is cool. But a lot of the venues basically pay in drink tickets. 

Steve has to admit to himself that he’s developed the beginnings of a beer belly. 

He’s standing in front of the mirror, looking at the slope of fat where he used to be all skin and muscle. He’s gotten hairy too. All down his chest and stomach. He's grown a scruffy moustache. He’s turning into his father. He’s too young to be turning into his father. 

It’s not all bad, though. Not when Billy’s real drunk, and slutty, and he whimpers _ fuck me Daddy _ while Steve fingers him open. 

Billy walks up behind him. He rests his chin on Steve’s shoulder. 

“We gotta go, pretty boy. Get dressed. You can check yourself out later.”

“Ugh. I don’t wanna.”

“Too bad. I’m not suffering through this stupid wedding alone.”

Steve sighs. He lets Billy lead him into the bedroom, even if it paradoxically means putting on clothes instead of taking them off. Billy looks good in a suit. Billy looks good in anything. He’s still cut, and tan, and beautiful. 

Steve looks dumpy. He hasn’t worn his _ church clothes _ in a couple years and they’ve gotten tight. He can’t button the jacket. The pants are stretched around his thighs. 

The wedding is a wedding. Steve doesn’t know anybody. The bride is Billy’s cousin, Rachel. She’s from his mom’s side of the family. So Neil isn’t there, and neither is Dorothy. Billy talks to the extended family now. Dorothy doesn’t since she started AA. Billy doesn’t talk to Dorothy. Which is understandable, since she abandoned him with an abusive asshole. It’s nice that Billy gets to have relationships with some of his relatives, though. Rachel has the same curly blonde hair and blue eyes as Billy. Steve’s still bored watching people he’s never met declare their undying love. At least there’s an open bar. 

Billy introduces Steve as his friend. It’s unsurprising, despite the fact they’ve been living together for three years and officially dating for two of them. Steve gets it. Family shit is weird. Steve calls Billy his roommate when he talks to his mom over so many miles of telephone wire. She’s never going to visit and see that there’s only one mattress. It’s easier to just not broach the subject. 

Billy drags Steve out onto the dance floor once he’s drunk enough. They don’t kiss in public, but Billy’s handsy. It’s not a bad night. It ends with Billy face down on the mattress, moaning _ harder Daddy, _as Steve fucks him. 

***

When he’s pissy, Billy will call Steve _ lardass. _

Even when he’s in a good mood, Billy will call him _tubby _ or _ chunky monkey _ or teasingly tell him to do the truffle shuffle. 

Steve pretends it doesn’t sting as much as it does. He knows that’s just the way Billy is. He’s always had a mean streak. He likes to poke at people. If Steve weren’t fat, it would be something else. When they first started hooking up, he gave Steve shit for being stupid. Not getting into college. Having to work at _ Scoops Ahoy. _

Billy can dish it out but he absolutely can’t take it. 

If Steve says that Billy’s selfish, or narcissistic, or a bitchy queen—Billy won’t speak to him for days. It’s probably better than what the old Billy would have done. Like, he’s made progress in that he doesn’t take a swing when someone upsets him. It still sucks to deal with. 

Yesterday, Billy called Steve a land whale. Steve replied that at least he didn’t keep enough beauty products to start a salon on their bathroom counter. And followed up by telling Billy he was more of a bitch than Nancy Wheeler was on her period. So. He probably deserves some of the stony silence he’s been experiencing. 

“Billy. I know you’re upset, but can we please talk about this weekend? Tommy isn’t about to cancel his trip because you’re in a mood.”

Billy ignores him, staring straight ahead at the TV. 

“Like, he called and asked what we were gonna do. Have we even made any plans? Do we need reservations anywhere? Are we just hanging out on the beach?”

“You two are adults. Figure it out.”

“Does that mean you’re not even hanging out with us?”

“I’ll hang out with Tommy. No reason it has to be at the same time as you.”

“Why are you like this? You’re so mean to me constantly. I say one thing and it’s like I set your favorite jeans on fire.”

Billy still won’t look at him. Steve can see him tensing. Shoulders creeping upward. 

“You seriously act like a fifteen year old.”

“Fuck off. I taught you how to do laundry. You tried to put _ Dawn _ in the dishwasher.”

“That has nothing to do with emotional maturity.”

Billy throws a pillow at him. 

“Ah. Yes. The perfect response to accusations of immaturity. Throw something.”

“Get the fuck out of here.” Billy snaps. He finally looks up. His eyes are a little wet. 

Shit. 

Steve takes a few deep breaths. Then he goes to sit on the couch. He leaves some space in between them. Billy at least doesn’t run away. 

“I’m sorry I called you a bitch,” he offers after a long silence. 

“OK.”

“Is there a different reason why you’re upset? I think maybe talking about it would help more than whatever it is you’re doing right now.”

Billy chews on his lip. He’s looking off towards the corner, like he does whenever he has trouble dealing with something. When he checks out, he tilts his head and just gazes at some undefined point on the right side of the room. 

“The products.” Billy says, stilted and quiet after a few minutes. 

“What about them?”

“Neil used to yell at me about having too many hair products. Even though I kept them in my room. He got mad about it. Too girly. Or whatever. Once he like. Uncapped some hairspray and sprayed it in my fucking eyes.”

“Jesus. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.” Steve moves a little closer. “I promise I won’t say anything about it again.”

“Whatever.”

Billy lets Steve drape an arm around him. He doesn’t struggle away when Steve pulls him into a hug. 

He’s still grumpy for a few days. He’s gotten over it by the time Tommy’s flight gets in. They have a nice weekend, eating ice cream at the beach, and going to their favorite bars, and making Tommy try all the best hole-in-the-wall restaurants in the neighborhood. 

***

“I should start going to the gym,” Steve says, when he’s thirty pounds overweight. He went to the doctor for a sinus infection. They talked to him about fitness. Gave him a pamphlet about nutrition. 

“You’re not gonna.” Billy blows out a cloud of smoke. 

It's one of their rare mutual days off. So they’ve just been lying in bed, getting stoned. Billy is right. Steve’s not gonna go to the gym. When he’s not working at the music store, he’s teaching lessons, or gigging. He doesn’t have time. 

“I’m already doomed. My dad weighs like three hundred pounds.”

“Look. If you’re that worried about it, you could start eating what I cook instead of getting takeout all the time. You _ could _ come to the gym with me. I just don’t think you actually want to.”

“Will you break up with me if I get fatter?”

“If I cared about that, I would have dumped you already. I like being the hot one.”

“You’re so great for my self-esteem.”

Billy sets the end of the roach in the ashtray and rolls onto his side. He kisses Steve slow and soft. 

“Hey,” he murmurs. “I like you how you are.”

“You don’t think I’m hot.”

“Didn’t say that. You’re not as hot as me. But you never have been. Like. Don’t feel bad about it. Most people aren’t.”

“Oh my god.”

“You’re still sexy, baby.”

“You’re just saying that.”

Billy presses up against him. He grinds against Steve’s hip. “Feel how hard I am?”

“That doesn’t mean shit. You’re a horndog.”

“Sure. You too offended to let me fuck you, though?”

“Probably not. If you eat me out first.”

“Can do.”

It’s easier to let go of the bruised feelings when Steve’s on his hands and knees. Billy’s got his face between Steve’s ass cheeks. Steve knows it’s not some sort of imposition. Billy likes doing this. Steve used to get freaked out about it. But Billy is a brutally honest drunk, and drunk Billy insists that he _ loves _ Steve’s big, round ass. Drunk Billy insists that he loves getting his tongue on Steve’s hole. Who is Steve to deny him? Especially when it feels so fucking good. 

Billy’s mouth is a religious experience. Steve’s dick twitches as Billy laps at him. He can’t help moaning. Billy gets him real sloppy. Spit slick. He gets a finger in and licks around it. Then two fingers. 

It’s not long before Steve’s saying, “Just get on with it already.”

Billy barely uses lube. He just slicks up his cock and pushes in. It stings. It’s rough, Billy draped over Steve’s back, pumping into him hard and fast, biting his shoulder and smacking his ass. Just like the old days, when Billy would pull Steve into the guest room at a party and make a game out of trying to get him to scream. 

Steve always used to bottom. Billy would say, _ it’s not gay to top, a hole’s a hole. _ Steve didn’t mind. He likes getting fucked. Once they moved away from Indiana, and Billy stopped talking to Neil, he started relaxing about some things. He started being OK with wearing pink, or putting on eyeliner, and admitting he liked clubbing and singing along to Cher. Maybe six months after the move, he ended some fight they were having by screaming _ why don’t you ever try to fuck me? _ So. Steve fucked him. Now it’s Billy on the bottom more often than it isn’t. 

“Feel so good, baby,” Billy murmurs. He tangles his fingers in Steve’s hair, pulls it, makes him crane his neck back. “My perfect little slut. You love my dick in you, huh?”

_ “Yeah,” _ Steve breathes, all dazed and loopy. 

“Gonna make me come. You close? Touch yourself.”

Steve’s arm is a little shaky as he tries to support himself. He wraps a hand around his cock. Jerks himself off rough as Billy’s fucking him. He comes hard, shuddering. His arm gives out, and he’s face down, ass up while Billy finishes. 

***

Despite working long hours at the auto shop, Billy comes to most of Steve’s shows. He’s there in the front row. Always cheering, whether it’s a crowd of twenty or two hundred. 

Billy isn’t really about voicing his feelings. He’ll drop an _ I love you _maybe once every six months. But he wouldn’t keep sacrificing his evenings to hear the same songs over and over at shitty, far away bars, unless he cared a hell of a lot. 

The other guys in the band thinks it’s funny to call Billy their number one groupie. It’s probably not too far off. At their bigger shows, where they’re opening for more popular bands, Billy runs the merch table. He hangs out with them backstage, drinking beer and sitting in Steve’s lap. 

As Steve gets bigger, Billy gets smaller. It’s never more apparent than when Billy’s on top of him. Steve’s got thick thighs, and a big ass, and a full on beer gut. Billy doesn’t go to the gym as much anymore. He tore his rotator cuff and had to stop working out religiously. He can’t lift like he used to. He’s lost muscle mass. He’s still super healthy. He jogs, and eats salads, and doesn’t drink a lot. It’s just that his shoulders have gotten more narrow. His biceps don’t bulge and he doesn’t have a six pack. He’s still like, the sexiest man alive as far as Steve’s concerned. He kind of gets off on the size difference if he’s being honest about it. 

Tonight they’re at a bar close to home. Jason, the drummer, offered to be the designated driver because he’s got an early shift tomorrow. They opened for another local band, and there was a decent crowd. Steve split his share of the drink tickets with Billy. So Billy is drunk off two vodka sodas, and Steve’s barely buzzed on Bud Lite. 

The second band isn’t really music you can dance to. It’s like, thrash rock. But Billy is still trying. He’s pressed up close against Steve. Grinding on him. He leans in and whispers, “you’re fucking sexy up onstage. I’m so lucky.”

He must be real fucked up. Steve smiles and kisses him. It’s dark enough, and crowded enough, that he doesn’t figure anyone’s gonna pay them much attention. With his long hair and slim silhouette, you could mistake Billy for a girl from a distance. 

Billy moans into Steve’s mouth. He drapes his arms around Steve’s neck. He kisses sloppy, and desperate and Steve can feel how hard he is. 

“Want you to fuck me, Daddy. Want it so bad.” It’s a low, needy whisper. 

It sends a lurch of heat through Steve’s whole body. 

They end up in the handicap stall of the bathroom, with stickers all over the walls, and dim enough lighting to not think about how dirty it is. Billy must have planned this, because he brought lube. He braces his hands against the wall and spreads his legs. Steve kisses his neck while working a finger into him. It’s not an ideal place to take their time. But Steve’s still careful. 

He loves the way Billy sounds. He loves the breathy whines, and the way Billy pushes back against his hand, and the way he begs for _ more, more, more, please, I can take it, I fuckin’ need it. _

Steve gives him another finger. Then another. Then his dick. 

Billy shudders as Steve slides into him. It’s one thing Steve will always have going for him. Like, not to be an egomaniac about it, but he’s got a pornstar cock. Billy sometimes says that Steve used to look ridiculous when he was skinny and packing so much heat. _ You just grew into your dick, is all. _

Steve keeps a hand on Billy’s hip and starts to move. He always starts slower than Billy wants it. He loves the feel of sinking into that perfect, tight heat. He loves the feel of Billy. Even after almost ten years, Billy makes him dizzy. Gets him all hot and achy, and it feels like static electricity everywhere they touch. Billy’s a livewire. Always making Steve short circuit. 

_ “Daddy.” _

“Yeah, baby. It’s OK. I got you.” Steve starts to rock into him a little faster. 

Billy tries to touch himself, and Steve gently knocks his hand away. It’s what Billy wanted him to do. Billy flutters around him. Tightens up a little. Steve moves the hand on Billy’s hip, tracing it up Billy’s stomach. Then his chest. He wraps it around Billy’s throat and squeezes, not quite tight enough to cut off the air supply. Tight enough to make Billy shiver. 

“You know better,” Steve murmurs. He can drop his voice real low these days. All the whiskey and cigarettes have made sure of that. 

He fucks Billy harder after that. Keeps the hand around his throat while he thrusts fast and deep. Billy whimpers. Bucks back against him. When Steve finally touches Billy’s cock, it’s dribbling. He comes after just a few strokes. Steve comes in him about a minute later.

Billy’s all gentle and dreamy on the ride home. He stays cuddled up against Steve. He wants to be carried inside. After they flop into bed, he crawls on top of Steve and just ruts against his belly for a while. Talking about how soft it is and how much he likes it. He ends up on Steve’s cock again. Riding it feverish and desperate while he grinds against Steve’s stomach. 

It’s a great orgasm. It’s been a while since they had sex twice in a night. Billy mumbles one of his bi-yearly confessions of affection before he passes out cold. 

***

Billy drops a lot of weight really fast. Like, twenty pounds in a few weeks. It’s so much that even he seems concerned about it. He lets Steve take him to the doctor. Billy doesn’t like doctors. 

Steve sits in the room with him, even though the nurse looks at them funny. It seems like Billy might faint when they draw his blood. Steve tries not to have awful thoughts. He tries not to dwell on Travis, the cute, skinny guy who used to work at the music store. The guy who hit on Steve whenever they closed together. Of course, Steve never took him up on it. But he was still concerned when Travis got sick. He watched Travis wither away into nothing over the span of a year. It was AIDS. The same thing that’s killed so many young gay men, especially in the bay area. Steve and Billy went to the funeral. 

Steve doesn’t want to think about how Billy would have caught it. He knows a lot of guys cruise at the gym. Billy doesn’t spend as much time there anymore, but he used to practically live there. Steve doesn’t want to think about Billy cheating on him. Much more importantly, he doesn’t want to think about Billy dying. Steve couldn’t live without him. 

It turns out that Billy has diabetes. Which seems like a cruel joke, considering how healthy he eats. He has to give himself insulin injections and monitor his blood sugar. There are more doctors visits, trying to get Billy on a stable dosage. He stops getting thinner, which is good because he didn’t have much left he could lose. 

He doesn’t gain the weight back, though. Even after his blood sugar is under control. He’s trying quite obviously. Exercising. Eating tons of protein. Lifting as much as he safely can. Then more than he safely can. He strains his shoulder and Steve has to threaten to cancel the gym membership to make him take a break. 

“Am I still sexy?”

It’s a half murmured question that comes in the middle of the night. 

“Of course you are, baby.” Steve gently cards his fingers through Billy’s hair. “What are you talking about?”

Billy’s been stoned as all hell for days. He’s been depressed ever since the diagnosis, but it’s been even worse since he was reminded the limits of his own mortality and his no longer teenaged body. 

“I’m so skinny,” Billy mumbles into the pillow. 

It’s true. Billy looks nothing like the Bay Watch lifeguard he was when they started fucking. He’s turned into the sort of beanpole Steve was in middle school. Not much muscle tone to speak of. But he’s still beautiful. 

“You‘re the one who’s always telling me that muscle mass has nothing to do with attractiveness.”

“Yeah, but I’m the hot one.”

Normally, Steve would tell Billy to fuck right off. But it’s clear the guy’s hurting. So instead he kisses Billy on the forehead. 

“You’re always gonna be the hot one, babe. You’re miles out of my league.”

“No I’m not. You’re good at stuff. You’re like. Creative. I’m not interesting. I don’t have any hobbies besides working out. I’m just the hot one. That’s it. And I’m not even that anymore.”

“Listen, between the two of us, you’ve got the real job. You’re a great cook. You’ve got the taste in movies, and art, and food. You’re like, way better at being an adult than I am. I’d be utterly fucked without you.”

“Yeah?”

“The bills wouldn’t get paid on time. I would eat nothing but chinese food and grilled cheese. There would still be Scarface posters on the walls. You’re the glue that’s holding this family together.”

“I guess you are pretty hopeless.” Billy inches closer. 

Steve wraps him in a hug. He rolls onto his back with Billy on top of him. Billy huffs a little. But then he settles. He says that Steve is like a giant pillow, his favorite thing to lie on top of. 

***

Billy and Steve can’t get married. That doesn’t stop Steve from being an idiot that buys a ring. 

It’s not too fancy or anything. It’s not like Steve makes a lot of money teaching guitar lessons. It’s a gold band rather than a diamond. 

He still does the whole dorky thing where he makes a nice dinner, and puts a candle on their kitchen table, and cracks a bottle of champagne. He puts the ring at the bottom of a wine glass, because of course they don’t own champagne flutes. 

Billy sees it immediately and breaks down sobbing. 

Steve worries that he’s fucked up. Like fucked up in a big way. Like he’s about to lose the guy he’s spent the last twelve years with. He’s insecure like that. 

But then Billy climbs into his lap and clings to him and cries it all out. He says, “Fuck you. I’ve never been this happy. I hate it.”

Steve’s heart is full to bursting. 

Eventually, Billy fishes the ring out of the untouched champagne and puts it on. It’s a little too big for him. He slides it on his index finger instead. He never takes the thing off again. He refuses to even have it resized. 

He says it’s perfect the way it is. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from ‘Lovely’ by Mt. Eddy. I’m on [ tumblr](https://trashcangimmick.tumblr.com/) and all that jazz.


End file.
